


Strong and Clear

by erinaceous



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, because i know i'm not the only one who hates how ryder doesn't care she's died multiple times, post-death cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 13:29:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15268500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erinaceous/pseuds/erinaceous
Summary: Sara feels lost and alone after her ordeal at the hands of the Archon. Jaal knows the feeling.





	Strong and Clear

Jaal had lost count of the number of wraiths he'd shot in the years since one had surprised him and taken a chunk out of his crest when he was still a recruit. By now they were little more than a nuisance.

So how was it that his prized sniper rifle now had a deep scratch in the barrel from one of the vermin's fangs?

He sat back, hands on his knees, and sighed. He'd tried covering it with paint and resin, but the shallow dent remained. It was like it was mocking him from where the rifle lay on the tech lab workbench.

Maybe the damage was only cosmetic. He hadn't really been keeping track of his accuracy as they made their escape.

He was normally so calm and collected in battle. Even after seeing the lifeless salarians lined up along the corridors of the Archon's flagship, he'd been able to keep a clear mind when they'd been surprised by kett soldiers a few minutes later.

So why had the wraith that jumped out at him from a shadowy corner as they made the final push to escape the ship sent him into that primal panic when it locked its jaws around his gun? He'd resorted to kicking it away instead of just stabbing it with his _firaan_ , and by the time it let go the damage was done.

It could have been witnessing the torture of the salarians. That one the kett had been working on was _alive_...but he'd been part of the liberation of plenty of labour camps and helped their starving slave prisoners evacuate before. It wasn't like he was a stranger to the kett's cruelty. The salarians' hollowed-out corpses shouldn't have been enough to distract him that badly.

There was one other thing, though. One detail that could have broken through his resolve enough for him to lose his focus in a fight.

As much as he hesitated to admit it, what threw him off had to have been seeing Sara die.

Seeing her lying there, her eyes half-open and her body convulsing with every one of SAM's failed attempts to revive her, was without question one of the worst moments of his life. For perhaps the first time in his life, the storm of emotion that had engulfed him, the vortex of sorrow, fear, pain, rage, had taken him completely by surprise.

He'd known she was a friend. He was even beginning to think of her as _attractive,_ even if she was an alien—she was certainly better-looking, softer, and sweeter-smelling than the kett. But how could he have anticipated _that_?

Even so...maybe it wasn't that strange. She was alien in looks and mannerisms, but the humans had more in common with his people than either side would probably care to admit. He could talk to her, listen to her laugh, and smell her the same as he would an angara. The biggest difference was her lack of a bioelectric field, but he was slowly learning that her biotics were an adequate substitute. Whether she was conscious of it or not, she had always been reaching out to him, calling to him. He just had to learn to listen.

Why had it taken her dropping lifelessly to the floor for him to realise all that? He was normally so perfectly in tune with his feelings. She was his one blind spot.

He sank down onto his bed. The rifle would have to wait. Time to think, that was what he needed.

Stars, he didn't even know if she looked at him the same way he looked at her. Maybe it was better not to know. He didn't think his heart could withstand being broken a second time.

But what if she did? What if she would accept him as more than a friend?

What if—

He looked up suddenly—there was someone outside his door. It took him a moment to remember where he was, that it wasn't another angara's bioelectric field he was sensing. There was only one person on the _Tempest_ who felt exactly like that.

His eyes widened as he sat there, frozen in place. She wasn't moving—maybe she was hesitating, or just distracted. He didn't know if he wanted her to come in or not.

No, that was stupid. Of course he wanted to see her. He just didn't know if he wanted _her_ to see _him._ He glanced at his reflection in one of the black screens over the desk; he looked _dreadful_. His skin was dull from exhaustion, there was a bruise rapidly forming over his cheekbone, and he hadn't even moisturised. At least he'd had time to shower and wash the kett stench off him.

The buzzer on the door went off before he could start to panic. So she _had_ been hesitating after all. That was almost reassuring—maybe she was as nervous as he was.

“Come in,” he called, before he could change his mind. The door opened and suddenly Jaal felt a little better about his own appearance.

Sara was a wreck. Even he, still getting used to the intricacies of human body language, could see that. Her hair fell loose and lank around her shoulders, which were slightly hunched, her hands stuffed in the pocket of a sweatshirt that was slightly too big for her. Most worrying were her eyes, red-rimmed and still wet.

“Sara,” he said softly. It was half greeting, half question.

“Jaal,” she replied, trying to smile as she stepped into the lab, but it ended up as more of a grimace and she fixed her eyes on the floor again. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw what happened with the wraith and I know you hate going to Lexi, so I thought...” she trailed off, though he didn't miss how her eyes darted up and down his body, as if checking for damage.

“My rifle took most of the impact,” he said, gesturing to where it lay half-disassembled on the workbench.

“Oh,” she said, and Jaal detected a slight change in her biotic current as she leaned over the workbench. He doubted checking on him was the only reason she'd come to him, and if talking about something familiar would soothe whatever pain was haunting her, he'd let her talk all day. “Can you fix it?”

“I think so. I don't think the damage was that serious, but I'll need to test it to be sure.”

“That's...that's good,” said Sara. Jaal watched in alarm as she blinked furiously, her eyes glistening despite her best efforts. “If you need time to work on it, I don't think anyone's going to be that keen to be out in the field again, so--”

A tear escaped her eyes and almost without thinking, Jaal reached out and brushed it from her cheek. She stopped mid-sentence and stared at him, her mouth slightly open, but didn't move to stop him. That was a good sign, surely.

“Sara, it is okay to cry. You are with an angara, there is nothing to hide. Did you really come here solely to check on my wellbeing?”

“Yes,” she said, too quickly, and Jaal's heart broke to see her standing there, her gaze fixed firmly over his shoulder while she pretended there weren't tears streaming down her face. “No,” she whispered then. “I just—Jaal, I don't—”

What was the use in being mindful of human sensibilities, as he had been making an effort to be, when they required him to stand by when there was a friend in distress right in front of him?

Slowly, so she could resist if she wanted to, Jaal put his hands on Sara's shoulders and drew her into him. One hand splayed over her back while the other curled into her hair, running the long strands through his fingers. He felt her tense up—surprise? Did humans not comfort each other?--then relax a little, her head pressing against his collar bone. She was the perfect height to tuck her head under his chin. After a moment, her hands found their place on his shoulder and at his back, as if they had always been meant to fit there.

Something didn't feel right, though, and it took him a second to identify it—she smelled like _them_. The smell of kett clung to her like dirt. He wanted it off. Could her human nose even pick up on it?

He felt something damp on his shirt, and he held her tighter when he realised it was because she was crying, silently, as if she were ashamed of her sorrow.

“I can't stop thinking about them. The salarians,” she said eventually, her voice small and trembling. “I can still hear the screaming. I couldn't...” She took a shaking breath. “I couldn't save them all. I had to leave Drack's scouts and now he hates me but the krogans were already being exalted, I couldn't leave more salarians to die like that. And I died _again_ and came back and nobody should be that lucky. I keep thinking maybe I'm still dead and this is all a hallucination, because everything still hurts and I'm so--” as she finished, sobs threatened to eat her words once again. “I'm so fucking tired.”

That was it; he'd heard enough. Jaal took her hands and sat down on the bed, pulling her down next to him. One of his hands enveloped both of hers while he tilted her head until she finally looked at him.

“Sara, everything you're feeling is a normal response what you've just been through. What was it you said you did in your home galaxy?”

She sniffled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “I was a security guard.”

Ah. That explained so many things. He rubbed slow circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. “My people have been fighting the kett for generations. People have been born and died without ever seeing a day of peace in their lives. And yet, though we should be familiar with their methods by now, our enemies are always finding new ways to shock us with their cruelty. This hopelessness you are feeling is something that most Resistance fighters have experienced at some point.”

“Including you?” she asked when he paused.

“Of course—but not since you arrived. In the last few weeks we've made more progress towards eliminating the kett than we have for years.”

Sara tried to smile, but her mouth still pulled down and her eyes were still wet with tears. She held his hand tighter, her smaller, slim fingers curling around his own, and he gave what he hoped was a comforting squeeze back. “I fucked up today, though, didn't I? I think Drack kind of hates me now.”

“He is angry, yes, but you had to make an impossible choice, and he should understand that. If he does not, I will set him right—even at my own peril.”

That earned him a small snort of laughter, at least, and she leaned in to him, resting her head on his shoulder, and he let go of her hands to hold her firmly around her waist. Her world may have been crumbling piece by piece since she came to his galaxy, but he wasn't going anywhere, and he was determined to make sure she knew it.

“And Sara, since we returned to the _Tempest_ I've been replaying the moment of your death over and over in explicit detail, so I am sure that I saw you get up and continue the fight like the warrior you are. Nowhere did I see you, ah, _fuck up_.”

For a few minutes they sat there in easy silence, arm around waist and head on shoulder, until Sara wiped her eyes with her sleeve again and sat up.

“Jaal, thank you,” she said. Her voice was still slightly wobbly, but still strong. _Much like her_ , he thought. “I wouldn't have got this far if you weren't here, not just as a crew member, but as a friend.”

“I consider you a dear friend as well, Sara,” he said, tucking a thick lock of hair behind her ear and watching as her cheeks turned a rosy pink colour and, strangely, she smiled at him while seemingly doing her best to avoid making eye contact with him.

Suddenly he felt something like a spark deep within him, a strange but pleasant, warm sensation he had not felt since...for a long time. He was almost caught off guard when Sara pulled him into a tight hug, though it seemed like she struggled to get her human arms around his broad shoulders.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his neck. “For being here.”

Still holding her, he shuffled back so he was leaning against the wall of the tech lab, and Sara shifted so she was nested more comfortably against him. He could still feel her biotic field trembling with nervous energy, but it was much steadier than it had been before.

There were probably other tasks they should both be doing. He had to find out just how damaged his rifle really was, and Sara would have to deal with Drack and talk to Director Tann at some point.

But at this moment, Sara was still recovering from her ordeal, and he knew from experience that sometimes there was nothing more comforting than the feeling of a friend's arms around you, so there he would stay.

 


End file.
